Scene One : I am alone
First thing in the mornings is hard. Really hard. Intense emotions locked up in dread that is suddenly awakened. My body hurts with fibromyalgia and sharp arthritic pains. The minute I wake from this liminal and liberated state, every day without fail, I am blasted with a painful adrenal rush, a sensation of shock in my solar plexus. A ‘hit’ of abandonment. I am awake but I’m alone. The dogs are a perfect mirror reflecting all that is happening. I long to go back to sleep, to turn a blind eye and forget, but miraculously as if reflecting my sorrowful state, resonant in that exact moment, my old dog downstairs, lets out an agonising, deep moan, as if she is in terrible pain. This desperate utterance ‘hits’ me like it’s my own. Guilty, she forces me to wake up. I remember again I am alone. My twin brother is not at my side. I am to continue this path on my own. This voiceless wail locked inside, is years in the making, a bottomless pit of grief that is so unbearable, that it’s easier to return back into my own secret and unconscious world. Occasionally, like my long suffering dog Roxy, I will make it clear I’m not happy with the crumbs of affection and business as normal, when I long for so much more. Just like Roxy, aching and heavy, she still desires to be top dog again, treated with respect and adoration, not shoved to one side as the problem that won’t go away. She might have stinky breath but her heart is huge and she’s always been there, faithfully at my side. My darling ‘baby’ dog Chammy, who sleeps on the bed, wakes and moves to lick my chin. She is always the centre of attention, named after the Archangel Chamuel, as she came to me as a gift of grace the day after a terrible break up. She’s a born healer, an energy worker. She reads my every nuance and in the very moment I am wrenched awake, that very second, she plants her paws and warm body on my gut and solar plexus. This is her karmic gift, to gently and carefully ease my suffering as I do for her, those early years abandoned as a puppy now mostly forgotten. She is so sweet, like my beloved twin baby brother, who is no longer entwined with me. We did not incarnate together but I feel him, aching to hear his beating heart again, next to mine. I am soothed by Chammy breathing. Reassured. She is my open heart. She is here. Now. She helps me to remember. To stay present. My old and weary dog continues her deep moaning to go and pee outside, a desperate, aching cry as if she cannot tolerate a moment more. Instead of resisting this urgent plea, I take a deep breath and return more to my sore body. Move my tight ankles. Arrive. And then silence. Beautiful silence. Everything interlinked. The mountain pregnant, sunlight sneaking through the green shutters. This paradise of mine that awaits. Roxy amazingly stops her cries, as I witness the situation instead of over-identifying in any one aspect. I am alive and I’m OK. I smile inwardly, as I notice that my wild, instinctual hunter dog is still sleepy in her cage, not yet awake. Slowly each year her early traumatised life recedes from her way of being, her cage at night, surprisingly helping to contain her frenetic energy and give safe, healthy boundaries. She needs containment, her infancy was traumatic as she chased her mother in terror around the mountainside until she found me. Gradually each month, she is more socialised, more settled. We are doing this together. It’s hard to consider her orgasmic frenzy of twelve hours the other day encouraged by another male dog, chasing the scent of wild boar, where she went beyond her limits and for three days after, was crashed and unable to move. These days, this is rare but like me, she can still self abandon, her nervous system not yet discharged of old shock, her exuberance sometimes too much to handle. We are both healing, step by step. I am fully awake. The witness is present. I am not the dogs. My solar plexus pains have receded as I remember to connect, to breathe deeply. I have no twin on this earthly plane. My baby dog has left my chest. All sounds have ceased. I am writing. Another sunny day, the morning awaits. As I make this shift, Chammy jumps back up, delightedly encouraging me to get up, licking me to say ‘please, come on, it’s time to enjoy the day’. Misha starts playing with something in her cage. She yawns her special sound on waking. My family and other animals, this Italian dream in place. No angst. Physical pains yes, unexpressed grief but I’m ok. I’ll all of it and none of it. Time to get up for the dogs, grateful for their love, messengers from above. Scene 2 : I am not alone Downstairs to witness my last bar of organic chocolate strewn across the floor. I immediately blame my partner for not putting Misha in the cage but then see it is Roxy who has unusually sniffed out the packet from behind my handbag. I am not blind to the message. I have been indulging as a comfort substitute and it doesn’t support my healing post Panchakarma, nor does it help my writing process. Thank you Roxy for this gentle reminder. Then I see that Misha is happily in her cage and I apologise quietly for my judgement of my partner. I move to the cage and tread in some pee that Roxy couldn’t contain. I take off my wet sock, grumble and then get the message. I mop it up. Misha starts wiggling with excitement she can barely contain. I open the cage to her bundle of energy and remember why I am here. So many hugs. So much welcome. So much love. So much to learn from these wise sentient beings who are my constant companions. I return upstairs to do more writing. I pick up my tea from the flask by my bed and see the words I had written in the coaster some days before. A gentle reminder. “I LOVE YOU”. Chammy snores in contentment.
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